


When the Dam Breaks

by Spellshadow98



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Creepy Loki, Crime lord Loki, Dominant Loki, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, En Dwi Gast likes breaking boundaries, En is an asshole, Evil Loki, F/M, Human Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how many tags y'all want, I'll update tags as I go along, I'm using too many tags like a nervous wreck, It's fine :), Kidnapping, Loki is Not Amused (Marvel), Loki is a little amused, Loki is filthy rich, Manipulative En Dwi Gast, Manipulative Loki, Needles, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Loki (Marvel), Original Character(s), Original character has anxiety, Rude En Dwi Gast, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, explicit panic attacks, loki laufeyson - Freeform, mob boss loki, no beta we die like men, sedatives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spellshadow98/pseuds/Spellshadow98
Summary: Buckle up for another cliche, probably poorly-written, self-indulgent, and self-insert story. I'm a basic bitch. It's a writer's fantasy of getting abducted by Loki. You've seen it before, you'll see it again. Nothing original to see here. I'll put forth readable quality, but the inherent nature of self-serving fantasies like this one leave quality to be questionable. I'll update tags as I go. Please let me know if I'm missing any.Hannah Ackerman is a 28-year-old physicist working in a laboratory. Riddled with constant anxiety, she doesn't socialize much, yet when her uncle (Robert) makes a faux pas and offends Loki, she's not only noticed but taken and held in Loki's home, used as leverage in case Uncle Robert makes another faux pas.
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki, En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki/Original Character(s), Loki (Marvel) & Original Character(s), Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. The Room

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm posting this. It is what it is. Warning for needles and sedatives used and an abduction. This is a self-insert and self-indulgent story. I'll probably repeat that at the beginning of each chapter. I'll try to make it as good as I can, but if you don't like self-serving fantasies, then this probably isn't the story for you. It's quarantine and I'm bored so here we are. Nothing much but set up happens in this chapter. It's mostly a description of the room she's in. Loki arrives next chapter.

It had been a normal day of rising early, going on a run, showering, eating breakfast, preparing lunch for work, taking the subway to the lab, and working at the lab. It was a normal day of avoiding small talk with coworkers, of focusing on what she saw under a microscope, of eating lunch with her favorite coworkers who were as quiet as she was, and finishing up around 6 p.m. A very normal day indeed, until hands wrapped around her waist, a needle pricked her neck, and everything went black.

When Hannah opened her eyes again, she was in a room, lying on a large, comfortable four-poster bed carved out of dark wood. The sheets were light blue and soft under her hands with two matching pillows and a navy blanket on top of the sheets. Both the sheets and blanket had been pulled back where she lay. She sat up, blinking, as she took in her surroundings. Across from her was a dark wooden door and next to the door stood a large chest of drawers made out of the same type of wood as the bed and door. The chest had six drawers in two columns of three drawers, each drawer having a golden handle attached in the middle. Above the drawers was a large Degas painting. Whether it was a print or a genuine Degas, Hannah had no idea. It looked genuine enough. She got up off the bed, walking over a thick Persian rug with intricate geometric designs and leaned over the chest, examining the painting up close for several minutes. 

No. She couldn’t tell if it was real or not. Hannah looked around the room and took in everything else, letting her hyperfocus of the painting go for a moment when she spotted the cameras in each corner. She swallowed, grimacing when she couldn’t see any cords. They must be on the other side of the wall, she thought.  
The wall to the right of the bed held another Degas painting and beside it, a wooden door with a handle that matched the ones on the drawers. She crossed over to it and pushed down on the curved golden handle— matching the ones on the drawers— and pushed the door open, revealing a spotless, large, white-tiled bathroom bigger than the bedroom Hannah had back at her apartment she shared with her uncle. Her uncle. 

Heart racing, Hannah’s hand flew to her pants pocket where she kept her cellphone, only to find it empty. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, clenching and unclenching her hands in time with her breaths until she was calmer. Hannah opened her eyes again, mind sharp but the panic mostly at bay. She looked at the bed, at the nightstand beside it, the lamp on top, and her phone neatly plugged into a charger and lying on the stand. Whoever had taken her had let her keep her phone? Either they didn’t think she would call her uncle or the police—or they had measures in place in case she did. Likely the latter. 

She gulped and looked across, over the bed to the other wall. A large window opened out to a beautiful lawn and fountain. Thick navy drapes were pulled back, tied at the sides of the window with golden tassels, fitting the golden handles of everything else. Under the window was a desk, with the wood predictably matching the wood in the rest of the room. On it were an unused notepad and a couple of fountain pens with several thick books piled beside the notepad. They were too far away for Hannah to read the titles, but judging from the leather covers and yellowed paper edges, they looked old and probably smelled lovely with that musky, enticing old book smell. 

A few feet to the left of the window was a walk-in closet with blue-painted doors with unadjustable shutters permanently slanted down. The two closet doors weren’t closed properly and a green shirt sleeve peeked through the crack. Whose clothes were they? Did it matter? Hannah shook her head and looked at the full-body mirror on the other side of the closet. It was gilded in gold and gorgeous, definitely antique, and matched the rest of the ornate tone of the room, contrasting with the soft beige walls. Hannah walked to the mirror, inspected her neck to see if she could see where the needle had pricked her neck and found nothing. Overall, she was unharmed. She sighed in relief and went back to the bed, sitting on it with her legs over the edge as she looked through the messages on her phone. 

Nothing. Good. At least no one was worried. She sent out a few texts to her uncle telling him she was fine but would be staying with a friend for a few days and wouldn’t be home for a while as well as texting her boss, telling her about falling ill with a bad stomach flu and that it wouldn’t be possible to go into work for the next few days. That should buy her time to figure out what was going on here. 

Her stomach twisted when her boss, Doctor Jesperson, replied saying that she didn’t need to come up with an excuse like “stomach flu” when Dr. Jesperson had already been notified of the sudden overseas research opportunity had fallen into Hannah’s lap last night. Dr. Jesperson simply bade Hannah good luck in her research in London and that was that. A cover-up, in other words. Someone had gone to great lengths to make sure no one worried about her, no one noticed her disappearance. 

“Sudden overseas research opportunities” weren’t unheard of and when offered, were usually taken up immediately. Hannah leaving so suddenly would be an annoyance but no one would go looking for her, that was certain. Except for her uncle. She bit her lip then sent him a quick text explaining that she’d lied about the friend and was heading to London for the “sudden overseas research opportunity” and she’d tell him more later once her flight landed.

She knew he wouldn’t buy it, that he’d come looking for her after that, but a person had to be missing for over 48 hours before they could be reported to the police. Her uncle worked in an Italian restaurant as a head chef. He’d be busy and likely not be able to look at his phone until the restaurant closed for the night. It was only 11:38 in the morning, according to her phone. He wouldn’t begin worrying for a while. Good. Hannah didn’t need to worry about him worrying about her. 

She let her phone go dark then flicked it on again, looking at the emergency call option in the corner of the screen. If there were cameras in her room and they’d let her keep her phone, it definitely was not a good idea to call the police. She shivered, her stomach twisting into knots, and looked at the door across from her, obviously leading to the rest of the building. There didn’t feel like a point in trying to see if it opened. Hannah looked at the cameras, a small red light on underneath each of the four lenses. She shivered again, pulling at her hair, feeling like the atoms she peered at underneath her beloved microscope in the lab. Privacy was something Hannah cherished. To have it stripped away like this made her feel unpleasantly vulnerable. Abruptly, she hopped off the bed and stalked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door after inspecting the corners and walls, relieved to find no camera in sight. 

The bathroom had a gorgeous sink, a large shower with glass doors and walls and three showerheads, two on the side and one on the ceiling, and an enormous bath that looked like it would go to her chin if she were to sit down in it with what looked like several jets around the walls. A small room for a toilet was just to the side, with a door of its own. Hannah smiled. Toilets in the same room where she brushed her teeth made her worried about bacteria traveling from the toilet onto her toothbrush. At least that wouldn’t be a problem here. 

Were this not a kidnapping, Hannah would have fancied herself in a grand hotel room having won the lab’s monthly lottery. Her heart lurched as she thought about her lab, about her desk, her cramped office, her lab space— apart from painting, the lab had been her haven, somewhere where she didn’t have to deal with people, didn’t have to second-guess herself, where numbers and calculations, intense observations, notes, and research could consume her. Physics made sense to Hannah, challenged her, gave her answers when she worked for them when she connected things, or disconnected things properly. Hannah could figure things out at the lab the way she never could around most other people and made as much sense as people… didn’t. 

She sat down beside the bath. The bath had a tiled corner which not only had enough space for her to sit next to the small steps that led up into it, but also to house a bundle of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, oils, salts, brushes, and any other bathing tool one could want. It was tempting to take a bath now, but if someone came in wanting to talk to her, she’d find herself in quite a compromising condition. No, better wait until people talked to her first. 

It took all of her courage to stand up again a few minutes later and walk out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Just to be sure, she tried the door leading outside, and sure enough, it was locked. Hannah clenched a fist then walked to the desk to look at the books. 

Beautiful copies of Dante’s Inferno, Robinson Crusoe, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and (ironically) Misery by Stephen King were stacked on the desk. Hannah enjoyed Stephen King. She found that with her anxiety, Stephen King helped calm it down, provide a sense of release for all of her worries and doubts and obsessive thoughts to go. But Misery hit too close to home right now. She settled for Robinson Crusoe and took it back to the bed, laying down on her side facing the main door, letting the story distract her until she heard the main door’s lock click open. She jerked into an upright position, the book snapping shut and clutched in her hands as she watched the handle move downwards and the door push open.


	2. Setting the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a self-insert and self-indulgent story. I'll probably repeat that at the beginning of each chapter.  
> Loki comes into her room and has a chat with her. He explains her uncle is in trouble and she's leverage to make sure he behaves from now on as well as pays his debts. She has a panic attack and he forces her to calm down. Non-consensual touching but not in a sexual way, not really.
> 
> Oh wow I forgot to say there's a chair in front of the desk. There's a chair with the desk guys. I promise. It's a nice one. There are also lights (plus light switches) on the ceilings in the room, the bathroom, and toilet cabinet or whatever that is. I'm just too lazy to put those details in right now. Also the bathroom has a window above the bath. It opens up and there are bars on the other side. Again, I'm saying this here because I'm too lazy to edit them into Chapter 1. :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway. Who wants some smut? Meeeee. Sadly, there is none in this chapter. :( At least there's Loki. APPARENTLY LOKI'S EYES ARE GREEN IN THE COMICS BUT THEY SWITCH FROM BLUE-GREEN AND ALL THE SHADES IN BETWEEN IN THE MARVEL MOVIES. AGH. They're green in this fic, guys. K? K. (Assuming I have readers who care about this stuff.)
> 
> OH MY GOODNESS PEOPLE LEFT KUDOS, BOOKMARKED, COMMENTED, AND EVEN *LOOKED* AT MY FIC. Thank you to everyone!! I did not expect anyone to even glance at this ever. :3 <3

“Miss Ackerman.” A man walked into the room and closed the door behind him. With shoulder-length jet-black hair that curled on its way to his shoulders, light skin, sharp nose and even sharper bright green eyes, thin lips smiling pleasantly at her, dressed fully in a black pinstripe suit and green tie, tall, slim, and a black gun in his hand, he caused Hannah’s anxiety to spike.

Her heart thudded and she gripped the book, nails digging into the leather cover. They’d probably leave indentations. She shivered but held his gaze, slowly setting the book down beside her with shaking hands, worried that if she damaged the book, the man would retaliate. She grabbed the sheets instead, knuckles turning white from how tightly her fingers clenched around the bunched up fabric. Hannah broke her gaze from him and stared intently at the carpet between them, counting how many blue squares she could find in the design. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…

The man coughed, jerking her attention back to him a few moments later, shattering the tiny amount of calm she’d been able to gather from the grounding technique. “I am Loki Laufeyson,” he said, in a cold, elite British accent, walking across the room to the desk. She watched him put his gun in his pocket, grab the chair in front of the desk, then carry the chair over to her and set it down facing her, three feet away from where she sat, legs over the edge of the bed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Laufeyson said, taking a seat in front of her. He held his and out for her to shake.

She gulped, face pale, and didn’t let go of the sheets, not trusting her hands to be steady enough for a handshake. Hannah knew who he was, his name at least. Loki Laufeyson, step-son on of Odin Borson and Thor Borson’s step-brother, was the head of a large technology company, the company’s slogan being “tech so good you’ll think it’s magic.” There was a time when Hannah had wanted to work for their research department but upon hearing rumors of the company’s illegal ties, thought better of it, just in case it was true, and found a job working in a university research lab instead.

“It is customary to shake someone’s hand when they offer it,” he prodded, eyes narrowing.

She bit her lip, hard, and released the sheet from one of her hands and reached forward to shake his. He squeezed her hand, lips twitching as he felt her hand tremble in his, and let go, lips twitching even more when she went right back to clenching the sheets.

“It is understandable you are frightened. After all, I did have someone jab you with a sedative and carry you off,” he mused, his gaze losing some of its edge as he looked at her, assessing her.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down again for a few moments before gathering her strength to meet his eyes once more. “Yes,” she whispered. At least her heart wasn’t beating so loudly anymore. It was still racing, but it didn’t feel like it would leap out of her throat now.

Mr. Laufeyson tilted his head. “Do you know why you are here?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Any guesses?”

Hannah shook her head.

“None?”

She shook her head again.

“Very well. I shall tell you, then.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, hands in his lap. “Your uncle owes me quite a bit of money. He foolishly tried to avoid me by changing his name, however, I found him and demanded he pay his debts in full.” Mr. Laufeyson’s eyes grew colder. “You are here to ensure he pays me back and doesn’t try anything stupid again.”

Mr. Laufeyson’s words hit her like an accidentally freezing shower. She stared at him, eyes wide. Hannah had known her uncle had debts. She had simply assumed they were with a bank, not… whatever this was. She let her eyes drop and focused on breathing. Once her breaths were steady, she looked up once more. “I’m leverage,” she said quietly, “for how long?” Part of her felt detached as if watching from one of the cameras. It was easier to be calm like this.

“He has a year to get everything together. If he does not, no one will ever see you again.” He leaned forward in his chair, and Hannah caught a glint in his eye that made her shudder. “If you behave yourself, I will let you live past that. If you try my hospitality, you will disappear.”

“I understand,” Hannah said quietly, relaxing her hands. She had no problem following rules if she knew what they were. Rules could lead to freedom, eventually. She could be patient, wait, and plan several months to escape once Mr. Laufeyson had let his guard down.

The glint in his eyes left and he nodded, eyes still appraising her. “A first attempt to escape will be met with severe consequences. If you attempt again, I will personally shoot you between the eyes. Am I clear?” he asked, pulling his gun out and setting it in his lap.

That brought her crashing back into full consciousness, panic flooding her. She scrambled away to the far end of the bed, shaking, bead hidden between her knees as her breathing grew fast and light. She shut her eyes, rocking back and forth, knees bent, arms clasped around them, and curled into a tight ball. Trapped. Stuck. Imprisoned. Confined. Disappeared. Shut-in. Captive. Captured. Cornered. Closed off. Ambushed. Prisoner. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t-couldn’t keep it together, she’d die here, it was all over, everything was over and she couldn’t even stand seeing a gun—

Chilly hands yanked hers apart and forced her legs down against the soft cotton sheets, foreign legs kneeling over her, pressing her legs into the mattress. One of those chilly hands cupped her cheek and forced her head up, making her eyes open in shock.

“Breathe with me,” Mr. Laufeyson said. “In. Hold. Out. Hold.”

Stuttering at first, she tried and slowly, choppily, her breathing and heart turned back to normal though her body tensed. It had been a while since she’d had someone so close to her on a bed. “What do you want?” she croaked, unable to look away from him.

He moved away from her and let go of her chin, sitting on the bed with a foot in between them with an impassive expression. “All I want from you, Miss Ackerman, is your compliance.”

She shuddered and nodded, finding it much easier to breathe once he’d put some distance between them on the bed.

Mr. Laufeyson smirked. “If you follow my rules and listen to me, we will have no problems. Yes?”

“Yes,” she whispered, crossing her feet in front of her and twisting the sheets in her lap. She could still feel how cold his hands were on his skin, how easily he’d ripped her hands apart, and forced her to sit up properly. Hannah swallowed and tried to shake the feeling away. He was speaking again and she needed to pay attention.

“You will not try to escape. You will eat breakfast and dinner with me; apart from the staff, there is no one else in this house and I would like companionship while you are here. You will come to me when I call. You will not try to break the cameras. You will not leave the premises without me. You will not go outside of this room unaccompanied, either by me or my staff. If you require anything that is not already here, you will inform me directly. You will not enter any locked rooms unless given strict permission. You will not break anything, including yourself. You will not attempt suicide.” He straight at her, face set in a stern expression. “Do you have any questions?”

Hannah nodded. “Why are there four cameras in the room?”

“To ensure you do not try anything. Someone is constantly in the security room watching the feed. There is nothing I do not know about.”

That could be done with one, not four. Four were there to frighten her and they were doing their job well but she wouldn’t waste time negotiating taking three of them down. “I… what if I need medication?”

Mr. Laufeyson shifted a bit. “Do you?”

Hannah nodded. “For my anxiety and OCD.”

“That will be taken care of immediately if you can write down the medication type and the dosage.”

“Thank you.” She hadn’t expected that. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to deal with her without medication. If he thought she was jumpy now, he was in for a shock if he didn’t get her medication.

“I’m not a monster, Miss Ackerman,” he murmured, leaning forward, a lock of hair falling out of place.

Hannah shivered. “Sometimes humans are worse,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even.

He chuckled at that and inclined his head. “Fair point. What other concerns do you have?”

“What do you expect me to fill my days with?” She used to work or research or read or play with her and her uncle’s cat, or exercise, or cook. What did she have now? If he tore the rug from under her, how did he expect her to stay sane— an apparent implicit rule— without any sort of coping mechanism or hobby?

“What would you like to fill them with?” he asked in return, politely curious. “There will be no physics lab, no scientific experimentations you wish to perform will have to be earned by gaining my trust.”

She swallowed. “What will it take to earn your trust?”

His smirk returned and he waved his hand. “Don’t run away from me.”

Hannah didn’t miss the addition. Not only were there no escape attempts from the grounds, but none from him, either. If she wanted to do anything remotely similar to work, she couldn’t avoid him or skip meals with him.

He leaned even more forward and took her hand in his, his smirk growing when she tried to pull away on instinct. “What did I just say?” he whispered, eyes glinting, hand tightening on her wrist.

Hannah flushed, unable to stop herself from shaking in his grip, his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, long, slim, and unrelenting. “This isn’t running. This is pulling,” she protested but stopped trying to get out of his fingers.

Mr. Laufeyson’s eyebrows shot up and he snorted, moving a few inches closer to her. “Semantics,” he said and let go of her, chuckling when she wrapped her arms around her torso, clutching her shirt. “Do you see my point, in the metaphorical sense?”

“Yes,” she replied, forcing herself to stay put instead of scoot further away on the mattress.

“So. You never answered my question. What is it you wish to fill your time with?”

“Reading, exercising, research, painting, cooking, yoga.”

“My home has various physical amenities including a fully equipped gym, a swimming pool, and a sauna.” He quirked an eyebrow and tucked the stray lock of hair back behind his ear before continuing. “Naturally, my home also has a large library with an impressive computer might I add, a kitchen, exquisite grounds outside, a greenhouse, and many other rooms that you might learn about depending on how well you follow my rules. If you wish to visit the library, or anywhere else for that matter, specific times can be arranged. Any screentime on my library computer will be supervised by a staff member sitting beside you.”

That was expected. She looked over her shoulder at the closet then back at Mr. Laufeyson. “Whose clothes are in the closet?”

Mr. Laufeyson chuckled. “Yours, of course.”

Her skin prickled. “M-mine?” How did he know her size? How did he know anything about her? Did it matter how, more the fact that he did? Did he already know she was on anxiety and OCD medication and simply wanted to hear her admit she was medicated? Her heart started to race again and she shut her eyes, only to have them open in a flash when Mr. Laufeyson’s cold hands cupped her face again, eyes narrowed.

“Breathe,” he commanded.

In, hold, out, hold. Over and over. Her heart slowed. She rolled her shoulders back and he let go of her but sat close to her, their knees almost touching.

“Good.”

She flushed. “How much, exactly, do you a-actually know about me?” she whispered.

Mr. Laufeyson smiled without a shred of warmth and stroked her cheek, chuckling when she shuddered and moved away from him, nearly at the edge of the bed. “I know everything about you.”

Hannah paled and nearly fell off the bed, saved only when he grabbed her again and pulled her forward against his chest in a mock-embrace and wrapped his arms around her back.

“Shh,” he cooed when she trembled. “Breathe. Calm down.” He waited until her tremors stopped. “I know everything about you because if I want my money from your uncle, you are the best card I have to play. The more I know about my card, the more I can hold over your uncle’s head.”

She was unable to help the shudder that went through her. Don’t run away from me. It took everything in her to stay still, to listen to him, to nod, to be complacent. “Do you even need me to write down my medication information?” she asked, glad that at least with her head against his chest like this she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Not really. But it would make the process faster if you did.” He let go of her and allowed her to scramble off the bed, to the desk, and jot down her prescriptions not only for her medication but for her contacts and glasses. Hannah tore the page out, folded it, and handed it to him. Even if she felt sick, at least her hand was still and not shaking.

“Thank you,” he said, tone businesslike. He got off the bed, gave her a short nod, and after bidding her goodbye, left and locked the room.

“Shit,” she muttered. She’d forgotten to ask about her phone privileges. She would see him at dinner, whenever that was. She’d ask then. Hannah dragged the chair over to the desk and wrote down everything from her conversation with Mr. Laufeyson she could remember, every rule, every addendum— thankfully there hadn't been that many— and then started analyzing everything.

There was something missing. Something big he was deliberately leaving out of the rules and Hannah couldn’t quite put her finger on it, or truth be told, didn’t want to put her finger on it. Don’t run away from me. The words echoed around and around in her head, making her shudder and have to take a small break to do a few breathing exercises before she could clear her head. He’d mentioned companionship.

Mr. Laufeyson was undeniably attractive. He could easily find companionship elsewhere, yet he wanted to pull it from her and manipulate her into being unable to refuse if she wanted more freedom. Don’t run away from me. Oh. Her stomach lurched as she put his words, his desire for companionship, and that awful little glint together.

Oh no. She balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms, biting into her skin, the pain sparking her mind into fresh clarity and she took a sudden, deep breath.

Sex.

She wasn’t a virgin. She’d dated several people over the years, even been engaged twice before she or her significant other had broken things off for one reason or another. But sex, admittedly like lots of things, made her anxious. Sex, unlike lots of things, made her panic, made her feel gross and incompetent, extremely self-conscious, panicky, high-strung, overly sensitive, mortified, and embarrassed all at once.

Even thinking about it freaked her out at times. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sexually attracted to people. It was, simply put, frightening, almost as frightening as Mr. Laufeyson and his horrible gun had been.

Hannah walked back to the bed, pulled the sheets and blanket over her completely, and curled there until someone came to get her for dinner.


	3. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-consensual touching and one brief non-consensual kiss. They have their first dinner together. Hannah thinks about how she can please him while remaining sane. Loki pushes her boundaries. The next morning, Loki comes to her room for a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sorry for changing the title all the time. It was "Leverage" and now it's "When the Dam Breaks." I'll keep it at that one unless I find a better one.  
> -Thank you again, you lovely humans. <3 I don't have an update schedule. :) Yet. I might have one later??  
> Hannah is a science nerd. A big one. I, however, am not at all. I'm also probably not going to do a lot of research to make any science things sound right because I'm too lazy. :P If you'd like to correct my awful science in comments, I would love that!  
> -Hannah is a nervous sunbeam and finds comfort in rules. If you're looking for a character who is rebellious, who will clash and fight Loki, this probably isn't a fic for you. She'll fight him only if he triggers her flight/fight response and has to fight in order to flight. Er, fly.

Hannah was tempted to stay curled up in bed when someone came to get her. However, snubbing Mr. Laufeyson like that likely wasn't a good idea, especially on her first day here.

Dinner began as a quiet affair. Hannah focused on eating her food, one careful bite at a time, pretending she didn't feel Laufeyson's eyes on her as she ate. What he was thinking, she had no idea and didn't wish to know. Knowing his thoughts would likely only add to her worries at the moment. At least with silence, there was no pressure for small talk or earnest conversation. She could concentrate on her plate and let everything else go. 

That was until Mr. Laufeyson spoke. "Are you always this cautious?" 

She looked up from her fish, hands gripping her utensils. "No, Mr. Laufeyson." Did he want her to explain how he scared her, how the situation scared her? She took a deep breath and ate a few more bites, casting her eyes back to her food. 

"Are you always this quiet when you eat?" 

She didn't look up and nodded. Warm food in her gave her strength. Once she had finished, she planned on inquiring about her cellphone use and if he was monitoring all of her cellphone use. When she did look up, she jumped, startled by how close his face was, a mere five inches away from hers. 

"Always so skittish?" 

Hannah nodded, throat tight, heart pattering. He reached out stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, chuckling when she pulled away. 

"Frightened little thing. Why don't you grovel, plead, or beg me to let you go, to release your uncle?" He purred then leaned back in his seat and sipped his wine. 

She swallowed down some water then answered, "There is no reason to. If you had wanted me to grovel, you would force me to. But since you haven't, there is no point." 

He raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine glass in his hand. "You think I would force you to do something like that?" 

"I don't know, Mr. Laufeyson." She'd only just met him. Clearly, he enjoyed being in control. He was thorough, coldly efficient, intelligent, polite. Yet there was nothing that gave any sign of him wanting any sort of begging from her.

"When others have tried it before you, their tongues were cut out and fed to them." 

Hannah paled and looked down at her plate, a tremor going down her spine. 

"Look at me." 

She jerked her head up, eyes immediately finding his, unable to look away despite her fear. 

He stared back, amusement flickering in his expression. Neither of them said anything and Hannah could feel the fear rising up in her until she couldn't bear it any longer and tore her eyes from his, stabbing her pasta with shaky hands and pushing it in her mouth. The taste of the tomato sauce and texture of the pasta distracted her, helped the fear and panic ebb to the corners of her consciousness. 

"As long as you follow my rules, you will have no need to fear any punishment," he said smoothly, cutting through her focus on her meal. She shivered and nodded. He was reiterating what he'd said in the bedroom. 

"Can I hold you to that?" She whispered, daring to look at him again. 

He nodded. "The only harm that will befall you is after breaking a rule or after your uncle tries to pull something over me. You have my word. I will not use you as a scapegoat."

"Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson." 

"I will demand other things of you, however, as we discussed earlier." 

Hannah gulped and squirmed in her chair. 

Amusement flitted across his face and he slowly raised a hand. "Not yet. I will give you a month to adjust to your new home." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her skin. His fingers moved to grip her chin and force her to keep looking at him when she flinched at his touch and tried to look away. "Tsch. Keep your eyes on me." 

She felt like a fieldmouse looking at a snake as she stared at him, frightened but mesmerized by his green eyes, mesmerizing, endless in their depths. 

"Good," he purred, and let go of her chin to stroke her face again, pleased when she didn't move--couldn't move--her head away from his hand. He smiled, his whole expression hypnotic. "Stay still. Hold my gaze." He leaned in until there was only an inch between their faces and suddenly even that inch disappeared when he pressed his lips on hers, soft but unrelenting. 

The spell broke and Hannah jerked back with a whimper, standing on her feet, her whole body trembling, fingers gripping the table, nails digging into the wood. She pressed them harder, sure to leave indentations, and tried to calm down, to focus on getting her breathing intact, but he was right. There. His glare pinning her where she stood, petrified, eyes frantically moving from one thing to the next until she spotted the door. 

"Move and I will push you onto the table, spread your legs, and take you right now," he snarled, face cold with anger. He stood, staring her down from his height.

She nodded then her eyes dropped to her glass of water, somehow miraculously filled. She grabbed it, detaching her fingers from the edge of the table, and drank several big gulps, the chill of the water easing her fright, finally giving her enough coherence to actually be able to breathe evenly again. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Laufeyson." 

"Apology accepted." The anger faded out of his voice and face. 

Why was she the one apologizing for not wanting to be kissed, to be touched, for reacting when he did anyway? Hannah took in a deep breath of air and set her empty glass down on the table. It was his power and sense of command, she realized, that had compelled the apology. She shivered. "I've finished eating. Would you mind if I retired?" she asked and looked up at him, wishing he weren't quite so tall. His height only added to his intimidating personality. 

His expression was carefully neutral and composed. Polite. "You are excused." 

"Thank you." She waited for the man who had escorted her to dinner and then silently walked back to her room with him, collapsing on the bed once she got there, and fell asleep, thinking about how much Mr. Laufeyson had pushed her and why he'd tested the waters so much when he clearly knew she was prone to panicking at any slightest perturbance. A last fleeting thought ran across her mind just before sleep claimed her. Her phone, she remembered. She'd forgot to ask about her phone. 

...

“No, En, you can’t just come see her. She’s still having trouble adjusting.”

Hannah sat up in bed. The door was cracked open, more than enough for her to hear Mr. Laufeyson’s side of his phone call. 

“She keeps having panic attacks.”

Hannah lay back down, curling on her side, and closed her eyes. 

“No, you can’t help her get through them. You’ll scare her even more. Fine. Next week. Dinner. Nothing more. Yes. I will see you later for lunch. Goodbye.” She heard him exhale loudly then the door open and close with a click. The carpet muffled his footsteps but she felt the bed dip when he sat on the mattress near her feet. “Good morning, Miss Ackerman.”

She sat up again, running a hand through her unruly hair, feet over the edge of the bed, and looked at him. He was already dressed in his work suit, a black jacket, white-collar shirt, deep green tie, and black slacks, everything fitted and emphasizing his lithe build. 

“You heard the end of my phone call, yes?” 

“Yes.”

Mr. Laufeyson chuckled. “En is an old friend of mine. He’s helping me keep an eye on your uncle.”

Hannah stiffened.

"He's not hurting him, don't worry," he said in a soothing tone. "Just watching him." 

For now. Hannah didn't doubt that if Uncle Robert did anything Mr. Laufeyson didn't like, his friend would descend on him in an instant. "I see." 

Mr. Laufeyson waved a hand then eyed her, taking in her rumpled shirt and jeans, the same from yesterday. "But that's not why I came to visit you today." 

Phone! Her phone. She needed to ask about that. However, it could wait until he'd stated his business. 

"I came to ask you if you would like a proper tour of the house."

"With you?" 

Mr. Laufeyson smiled. "With me. Once you've freshened up." 

She squirmed under his eyes roving over her, cheeks hot, and pulled the sheets over her. "What if I say no?" 

"Then I will take the books away," he replied without batting an eye. 

All of her actions and decisions had an opposite and unequal reaction from him. It felt like another head game, another way of controlling her. She bit her lip and nodded, clutching the sheets for some semblance of security. 

His lips twitched as he watched her as if fighting a smile. "I promise not to touch you and let you choose a few books from the library if you wish."

Mr. Laufeyson's approach was that of simple reward and punishment, a carrot or a switch. But perhaps the situation didn't need any more complexity than that. "I will go on a tour with you, Mr. Laufeyson," she said quietly, the thought of looking to see if he had anything remotely interesting about physics ample motivation to endure the rest of the tour. 

A smile broke free and he stood up. "I will come back here in half an hour. If you aren't ready by then, the book privilege will be rescinded." 

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson." 

"Good." 

"Wait!" she cried as he turned to leave, "Sorry. Um. It's-- my phone. You left me my phone." Her heart thudded. Why was asking about something she needed so difficult? 

He turned back, looking at her with a bored expression. "Yes. I did. Is there something wrong with it?" 

Hannah took a deep breath. "Is there? Did you... bug it? Put a website tracker into it? Restrict any URLs?"

"It is bugged, of course. Everything you do on it is monitored though nothing is restricted." Mr. Laufeyson tilted his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest, black hair shining in the sunlight shining through the window. He must have gelled it back to keep it out of his face. "Any rule breaking will result in your phone being confiscated. If you behave well enough, I might give it back to you." 

She'd suspected as much. "Yes. Thank you. For letting me keep it." 

"Of course." His lips twitched again. "I'm not a monster, Miss Ackerman, even if you think that of me. I will be back in thirty minutes." He gave her a curt nod, turned on his heel, and left her alone to her thoughts.


	4. Looted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gives Hannah a tour of the mansion. He comes onto her. There is a kiss or two. There is lots of art. I'm an art history major and will probs nerd out over the art. Here's a cool list of lost artwork a la mode that I'll draw from to furnish Loki's home, the little thief: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lost_artworks In this AU, Loki and Thor share a mother. I think that's MCU canon, no? *tosses hands* Idk. This chapter is a disorganized mess and it's awesome. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a self-insert and self-indulgent story. The main character has General Anxiety Disorder and panic attacks. Hannah is a molecular physicist if y'all were interested.

The mansion was more like a museum than an actual home, Hannah noticed once the tour had started. Paintings of his ancestors decorated many of the halls in painted portraits or busts. Electricity and indoor plumbing along with a few renovations in some rooms had only been added or done in the past twenty years. Of course, upkeep and checking for rot happened routinely, Mr. Laufeyson had said. The floorboards, most of them, were not the originals from the time the house was built. Neither were some of the walls, but they'd been replaced to look exactly like the previous walls, simply without termite infestations and the like. Hannah was fascinated by the dominating expressions most of the figures had, how they followed her with their eyes as she passed them.

Mr. Laufeyson only talked of a few of them, the others he passed, tight-lipped. Only half of his ancestors were represented on these walls, the other half deemed unimportant by his father and brother. It made sense, then, that he didn't want to talk about much of Odin's line. There wasn't much of his mother's genealogy, either, something Mr. Laufeyson evidently regretted, as well as the fact that there was nothing representing his biological paternal father anywhere, a deliberate move on Odin's part. 

The more general art, the prized pieces were mostly in bedrooms and parlors, parlors plural. The mansion had several as well as a grand ballroom dating back to the pre-Civil War era. In such rooms, Mr. Laufeyson showed Hannah "lost" ancient Greek marble statues by masters such as Phidias or Zeuxis from 450-400 BCE, apparently secretly stolen then handed down or quietly bought from underhand art dealers over the centuries. Many Greek and Roman mosaics decorated the walls in the bedrooms or even some of the bathrooms throughout the mansion. The sheer wealth and age of everything added to Mr. Laufeyson's intimidating presence. 

If it were only ancient Greek and Roman art, Hannah may have been able to stay calmer, but as he showed her Byzantine pieces that were supposedly lost during the iconoclastic period, what felt like an entire horde of Viking art and artifacts in a special room where the temperature, humidity, and other important physical aspects were under tight control, some of the artifacts still under glass or other such protections, her sense of self, of her own importance, diminished. By the time they'd gotten through Renaissance, Baroque, Impressionist, Expressionist, Modern, and Contemporary pieces over the mansion, Hannah was exhausted by the sheer amount of treasures the family had (more often than not illegally) accrued. Her favorite pieces had been some of Monet's paintings of his garden or a few of the Japanese prints from the Edo period, Ming vases, and a few Goryeo celadon ceramic pieces from Korea. Older Japanese and Korean art forms were her favorite things to study and visit. It was a pity the mansion didn't hold more. Though really, much of the pieces in the mansion should be returned to where they belonged, wether that was Greek museums, or to original owners. Hannah wondered just how much of the art she'd seen was looted from the great Nazi art theft during the Second World War, where still many pieces remained unaccounted for even today.

Mr. Laufeyson explained that their art collections were strewn across the family homes in the United States, this mansion keeping mainly Western art. "If you're still this well-behaved in two months, I will take you to each mansion so you can see all of my family's collection." That had been the best news she'd heard in years. Hannah promised him she would try and she would, she really would, but the foreboding Don't run away from me order loomed overhead and she knew that was one rule she would continue to have trouble with, especially within the next few months as he got more... physically affectionate with her after her month-long grace period he'd promised she could have. 

At least, during the tour, he'd kept his hands to himself, even if some of the paintings or statues he'd shown her were erotic bordering on pornographic. In art, Hannah was no stranger to nudity. The deeper one got in art, the more unavoidable it was. However, that didn't mean the pieces she'd come into contact with were pornographic-- judging from by her standards. But these... Some had made her blush and hurry on, ignoring Mr. Layfeyson's chuckles or smirks. Yet apart from those, he made no approaches, something Hannah was intensely grateful for. It had taken several hours to go through the art alone, and then double back to the other rooms including the enormous swimming pool, the kitchens, the exercise rooms, and other bedrooms in case she wished to switch at some point. 

Finally, they reached the library. 

The mansion was several stories tall and the library opened up to all of them with shelves upon shelves and staircases, walkways with railings, ladders, cozy nooks with worn leather chairs, a large fireplace (currently unlit) on the main floor with several lovely-looking armchairs in front of it. The was a large empty space on the main floor as well with a large long, rectangle, dark wooden table and several chairs situated around it. At the end of one of the shorter sides was the computer. Alone, the library spoke of wealth and power. Coupled with the mansion itself, the art it held inside, and its occupants, it was evident that Mr. Laufeyson and his family had far more money and status accumulated over the centuries than she'd ever realized. She shivered but when Mr. Laufeyson set her loose in the library and told her to meet him back at the computer in an hour, Hannah was off roaming the shelves and learning the organization of the library, relieved when everything was kept in order according to the Library of Congress, with shelves even labeled with short descriptions on the sides of what they contained. 

Still, it took a bit to find the books she wanted on physics. The library currently wasn't lit too well; most of the window curtains were drawn over the many windows and the electric lamps everywhere were mostly turned off unless she turned them on. A large chandelier hung around the main empty space in the middle of the library, but that, too, was off. However, on the brighter side, Hannah was pleased with how much Mr. Laufeyson had on atoms, books ranging from several centuries ago to the past month. She took a few books about magnetism, crystallography, radiation, elementary particle physics, and for good measure, a book about astronomy before returning to Mr. Laufeyson, holding five semi-thick books total, and set them on the table. Her choices were newer, none older than five years. Who kept up with the library? Who kept up with the books on physics? They looked incredibly new, not even opened. Oh. Hannah swallowed and looked at Mr. Laufeyson who took in her shock with a smirk. 

"I updated the section on atomics, yes." He chuckled and rose from the chair he was in, several feet away from her. "A bribe, if you will." 

"Oh." She looked down, tracing the cover of the book on top of her pile. "That was..." It wasn't kind, just another form of manipulation. Honey rather than vinegar. Hannah shook her head. "Thank you." Though there were no books quite in her exact field of study, she suspected the closeness of the topic she'd found was an implied promise that she'd get specific books, likely specific book requests, upon further good behavior. Her stomach churned at the thought of what, exactly, would count as behavior "good enough" to get such books. 

"You are welcome," he said, amused, snapping her out of her rumination. "I will charge you one kiss to take those books out of the library." 

He towered over her. When had he gotten so close? He was standing a foot away. If that. Hannah shuddered and stepped away, only to have her back press against one of the high-backed chairs. He'd likely kiss her anyway if she said no, and not let her take any of the books with her. She gulped, fingers clenched at her sides. "Not longer than five seconds," she negotiated instead of outright refusal. 

Mr. Laufeyson laughed and shook his head. "Ten." 

"Seven." 

His eyes light, he nodded then held his hand out. "Come here, against me if you will, Miss Ackerman." 

Hesitantly, Hannah closed the difference between them and gazed up at him. He was far less intimidating when his face was lit up with a smile that reached his eyes. Almost approachable. Almost. She swallowed again and stood on her tiptoes as he lowered his face and paused, lips an inch away from hers. "Go on," he murmured, hands mercifully kept at his sides. Hannah stilled, anxiety keeping her frozen, unable to move. He raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to stroke her hair. "Don't make me repeat myself," he warned, the softness in his eyes vanishing. 

Hannah shuddered and closed her eyes, pressing her lips against his, accidentally biting his bottom lip, blushing bright red as he chuckled, hand holding her head to his as he kissed her, lips probing. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Done. True to his word, he stepped several feet back, eyes glinting, his hand letting go of her head to stroke his lips with the back of his palm. "Good girl," he whispered, lips curling into a seductive smile. "Come. You must be hungry. We haven't eaten anything since before the tour."

"Can I first take my books to my room?" she whispered, face pale. She gathered the books and squeezed them to her chest to keep her hands from trembling. His lips had been hot, his hand cold and strong in her hair, it out of her face like that. But that look in his eyes-- Hannah bit back a whimper. 

"Yes, of course. Please, allow me to carry those for you." He held his hands out for them and after a moment's pause, Hannah gave them to him. When he merely gave her a smirk and walked out of the library, she hastily followed him through the house back to the room he'd put her in, grateful for the lack of conversation. He glanced at her every so often, but she could deal with that and pretend she didn't trip every time their eyes met like some naive schoolgirl. Mr. Laufeyson was dangerous. She wasn't going to allow herself to be ensorcelled by him and that odd magnetic pull he had that kept drawing her attention back to him, even if she flitted her eyes away a moment later. 

"Open the door for me, please," he said, breaking the silence when they'd arrived in front of the room he'd given her, and walked in without hesitation, setting the books down on the chest of drawers beside the door. 

Hannah bit her lip. The books weren't light and he'd carried them without complaint or rest from the library to the room, a good ten-minute walk. She released her lip with a soft pop as she walked inside the room--she refused to call it "her room"-- and to the closet to fetch a jacket, cheeks bright red when she turned and found him staring at her with a heated expression, his eyes on her lips. He leaned against the doorframe and licked his own, making her shiver as she grabbed a jacket to put on over her short-sleeved shirt. Hannah took refuge in pulling her hair out of the jacket, shaking her head, adjusting the jacket, and by the time she was done, her blush had gone but Mr. Laufeyson was now much, much closer than where he'd been. 

"Perhaps we should forgo dinner and continue where we left off in the library." 

"Y-you promised," she stuttered, forcing the words out of a tight throat, body stiff and rooted in place. 

"I promised not to have sex with you. Kissing you is still entirely allowed," he replied smoothly. 

"Loophole," she whispered, fists clenched, nails biting into her palm. "Please. Just... after dinner?"

Mr. Laufeyson quirked an eyebrow. "Very well." He rolled his lips as he looked at her then turned on his heel and headed out of the room. "Come. Dinner is waiting for us."

Wondering if he'd manipulated her into offering him another kiss, Hannah hurried after him, focusing on counting the lamps between every few paintings. There was no winning with the man. The sooner she remembered that the sooner she'd figure out loopholes of her own.


	5. Ghastly Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah gets antsy and practices basic chemistry with her clothes. En Dwi Gast comes for dinner. This chapter is a bit long, lots of Loki/En Dwi Gast/Hannah dialog. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: En Dwi Gast harasses Hannah and Loki doesn't do too much to stop him. Loki non-consensually kisses her at the end of the chapter. Bit of non-consensual touching from both En and Loki, but it's pretty PG.
> 
> I'm also stupidly pleased with the absolutely terrible pun in the chapter name. :D :D :D :D
> 
> Ugh, I meant to post this a few days ago and then Depression plus ADHD's executive dysfunction hit bad. So. Here it is! :)
> 
> *Buffy voice* She's just going through the motions...  
>   
> Also! I started a new character insert fic with Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier! :D Feel free to check that out. It might be just a one-shot, it might be more. Idk.
> 
> Ok, folkx. The collection entitled "Set the World on Fire" by Drachenkinder on AO3 (link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284389 ) is absolutely incredible. The way Drachenkinder captures Loki's and En Dwi Gast's characters, as well as gives scorching sex scenes and fascinating plot stuff is masterful. Definitely one of my favorite collections, if not all-time favorite. The collection does have a lot of warnings and the relationship between these two is extremely "iffy" at best and downright abusive at worse. But yeah. If you like dysfunctional relationships and Frostmaster fics, hit that one up!
> 
> I also don't really have a plot figured out here, so. I have ideas for individual scenes, but no actual overarching plot... XP :P It'll come.
> 
> Talking to the void is fun. :)
> 
> I've tried to give Hannah as little physical description as possible so you can imagine her to look like whatever you want.

The next few days passed in an uneasy monotony. She woke up, got ready for the day, had breakfast with Mr. Laufeyson, and then was taken back to her room where she read, drew on her phone, napped, paced, was allowed on an excursion to one of the other rooms in the mansion under supervision, or organized and reorganized her closet. She also ate lunch in her room since Mr. Laufeyson was often busy during the day. However, come dinnertime, she was escorted to the Dining Room and ate with Mr. Laufeyson. After dinner, she was brought up to her room where she would get ready for bed, slip underneath her covers, and go to sleep. Three times, she'd been allowed to use the exercise room.

Throughout the week, apart from meals (and even during those), Mr. Laufeyson left Hannah alone. He looked at her often during meals but said little as they ate. He didn't visit her room, he had his employees--who were forbidden to talk to her except to answer very limited questions--escort her when needed. Hannah couldn't understand it. Was it a new form of manipulation, to starve her of human interaction? Or was he trying to be more reasonable and give her space while also subtly checking in on her twice a day? The quiet certainly made her antsy, that was certain, though having her medication helped. She'd have been far worse without it. As the days passed, she paced more and more in her room and was given more time in Mr. Laufeyson's private gym. He was monitoring her through the security cameras but never brought it up over their shared meals. She itched for fresh air, more than just her window, needed to get out, let her skin soak up the outside properly.

If Hannah ever wanted to get out, she'd have to figure out how to either disable the cameras throughout the mansion and grounds or find her way into the security room. However, it was likely Mr. Laufeyson had the security cameras stream straight to his computer. She sighed. She'd have to get onto his computer and disable those, too, somehow. If she had someone on the outside hacking into the system and disabling all of the security--there had to be more than just the cameras--then she would have a chance. Either that or get him to let her go outside beyond the mansion grounds alone, which was not happening anytime soon.

She could get books about lockpicking, then at the very least, she could wander the mansion on her own. Her bedroom was two stories up, too high for her to jump out of from the window over her desk. Her window opened, wide enough for her to easily slip through, but below were rosebushes. Not something she wanted to land on. There was no possible way out in her current predicament. If she jumped, she'd injure herself and her already slim chances of escape would disappear completely. There had to be a better way to get out. She'd figure it out eventually, she just had to give herself time and patience to plan everything without drawing attention to what she was doing and for Mr. Laufeyson plus his employees to lower their guard down. Perhaps there were secret passageways. If she could get blueprints of the house's layout, that would certainly be useful. But asking for those would raise immediate suspicion. Perhaps they were in the library. It was worth a look next time she was allowed to get more books. Hannah put the plan away in her head, wishing she'd be able to write it down or text it to herself, but with the constant supervision, that simply wasn't possible. Even if she wrote it in code, Mr. Laufeyson was sure to notice and interrogate her about it later. No, best to make a mental note for later. She sighed and reorganized her closet again, this time by type and then color underneath type.

Mr. Laufeyson certainly spared no expense with her clothing. Dozens of shirts, pants, dresses, complete outfits, tights, jackets, sweaters, jumpers, underwear, and even a few pairs of overalls had found their way into her closet and drawers. They were all in her size, she discovered when she'd spent several hours one morning trying everything on in the bathroom then using the full-length mirror in her room to check how the clothing looked and felt. Everything was to her tastes as well. They were timeless, classical pieces that wouldn't go out of style and still were unique enough to be interesting. Even though Mr. Laufeyson wore mostly dark colors with white shirts, her repertoire of clothing (and accessories, come to think of it), was bursting with colors. Sunflower yellow dresses and skirts, bright green shirts, red belts, and other things were now at her fingertips. Were it not for her painting hobbies, she'd have found it challenging to know what to pair together. The fabrics, however, were still challenging to figure out how to pair and she had spent a day or so poring over different fashion magazines scouring them for tips and taking notes on the notepad Mr. Laufeyson had provided. It was more interesting than she'd expected, sort of like figuring out how molecules and atoms paired with each other to create better things together. Once she'd made that connection, she'd given each fabric type an element name and different combinations different molecule titles. For example, taffeta became Zr for zirconium and jeans became C for carbon since carbon easily bonded to other elements. This led to her reviewing molecules and elements, ionic and covalent bonds, using her clothes and finally being able to understand and admire the different combinations that her new wardrobe was capable of.

So immersed was she that she was still experimenting with different combinations several days later. When she finally was graced with human contact during the day, the sharp knock on her door (she'd broken down over the past few days, deciding to call the room hers to give herself the freedom to then feel at home, to feel safe there, and at peace enough to do what she wanted in the room, even with the security cameras) caused her to jump and then walk to the door, cracking it open.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm expecting a friend over for dinner tonight." Mr. Laufeyson.

Hannah stepped back and opened the door properly. It had been a week since Mr. Laufeyson had come to her room. She let out a breath and moved to the side to let him in.

"I would prefer it if you were to wear something formal. I can send someone in to choose for you and do your hair, makeup, and the like if you wish."

Oh. Just who was this friend? She nodded. "Yes, Mr. Laufeyson." It wasn't worth it to ask, not when he seemed on edge, tense. Even the way he walked into her room and surveyed the mess of clothes on her bed radiated low-level anxiety.

He quirked an eyebrow at her after appraising her "science" experiment. "That's it?" he asked, arms crossing in front of his chest, one finger tapping on his forearm.

Hannah nodded again. "And help with makeup and hair would be great." Hannah never knew what to do with her hair and makeup other than lipstick was a complete mystery. She'd seen the cases of cosmetics in the bathroom drawers under the sink but hadn't touched them. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was that she didn't know how to and often admired those who did, regardless of their gender. Makeup was a skill, one too intimidating for her to try, especially at the moment. It made her feel self-conscious, too worried about looking silly and not doing it right.

"Good." He looked back at her clothes in matches on her bed. "What is that?"

Her cheeks burned. "A... science experiment."

"Oh?"

"I named the different materials and fabrics different elements off the periodic table to help me figure out what bonds--what pairs best with what."

Both of Mr. Laufeyson's eyebrows rose then he chuckled. "Clever. I am pleased you are figuring things out."

Hannah nodded, an awkward pause filling the space between them for a few seconds, then Mr. Laufeyson spoke again.

"I will see you at dinner. Please make sure that some of the elements make it onto you and not just the bed."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson."

He gave her a tight smile and strode out of the room, the door shutting and locking behind him.

Hannah swallowed then looked at her outfits before choosing a long, black, silk dress, golden shoes with a two-inch heel, abstract dangly shaped earrings, and a slim gold necklace. There was another knock on the door a few hours later, once she'd showered and put the dress and accessories on. She opened the door, smiled at the woman in the doorway, and made room for her to come inside.

The woman walked inside the room, pointed to the bathroom, and dragged the desk chair inside after Hannah. Once there, the woman had Hannah sit down and for the next hour, it seemed, worked on her face and hair. Once finished, Hannah's hair was up in an elegant bun on top of her head, and her face made her look softer, emphasizing her eyes and lips. The woman never spoke to her except to tell Hannah to turn her head or face another direction. Hannah was uncomfortable but the result made her discomfort worth it. She felt beautiful.

"Good," the woman said, smacking her lips in satisfaction. She nodded curtly to Hannah, took the chair over to the desk, and left. Hannah listened to the lock click on the other side of the door then admired herself a bit more in the soft bathroom light before putting her shoes on, and waiting for her escort to dinner, who came a few minutes later and said nothing to her.

Unease lurched in her stomach. Hannah had no idea what this friend would be like, why said friend caused Mr. Laufeyson to be anxious hours before they even arrived. Mr. Laufeyson's anxiety was contagious and by the time Hannah had reached the dining room and saw two men at the far end of the table, her stomach was in knots and her fingers twisted around each other behind her back as she approached them.

"You look lovely," Mr. Laufeyson said, smiling that same tight smile from earlier, eyes hungrily eating her up from a few feet away from where he sat.

Hannah flushed and focused on the floor, concentrating on keeping herself moving closer instead of stopping like a mouse caught by a cobra. She shivered once she found her habitual seat beside Mr. Laufeyson who was at the head of the table. Hannah sat down and looked across the long, slim table sat a man, who looked like he was in his mid-fifties, with silvery hair groomed and combed back in styled waves. His tan skin only made his hair stand out more. His face was lined with age though his skin was tighter than most 50-year-olds. His hazel eyes pinned her in her chair, sharp and inquisitive as she felt them assess her. Hannah clenched her jaw, her hands squeezing each other in her lap under the table, unable to look away from him. He wore a loose, deep blue shirt, unbuttoned at the top, with a few rings gilding his thick, worn fingers, and a gold chain around his neck, glinting underneath his shirt.

"En, this is Miss Hannah Ackerman. Miss Ackerman, this is En Dwi Gast," Mr. Laufeyson said, gesturing politely to Hannah and then to the stranger.

Mr. Gast held his hand out to Hannah and she shook it, shivering at how he seemed to snatch her hand and hold it tighter than necessary, thumb roving over her palm. He brought another hand over hers, letting both of his hands stroke her skin before Mr. Laufeyson elbowed Mr. Gast.

"It's, a pleasure," Mr. Gast drawled, giving her a grin as he let go of her hand. "Lolo here has talked about you for days now. Nice to see a face to, uh, go with the name."

Hannah shrank back against the chair and glanced anxiously at Mr. Laufeyson who shot Mr. Gast an irritated look but said nothing. She looked back at Mr. Gast and nodded once.

"She's cute," Mr. Gast said to Mr. Laufeyson. "Bit shy."

Mr. Laufeyson rolled his eyes. "What did you expect?"

"Not the truth. Thought you were lying to me." Mr. Gast gave Hannah a grin. "No one's this well-behaved without being disciplined. Especially Lolo."

Her eyes widened and she stared at the two of them while Mr. Laufeyson gave Mr. Gast another angry look.

"What he means, Miss Ackerman, is that he didn't expect you to be so quiet about everything," Mr. Laufeyson explained and sipped his wine.

Mr. Gast nodded and leaned forward on an elbow, looking Hannah over again, chin resting in his palm. "Lolo's usual guests are tearing at the paintings or trying to destroy the doors or throw themselves out of the window. But you've, uh, followed his rules." He winked at her. "Most of them, anyway."

Hannah paled and reached for the glass of water in front of her, downing half of it in three loud gulps.

"We're working on the last one," Mr. Laufeyson murmured. "I've decided to take things slower." He looked directly at Hannah, green eyes on hers, forcing her to hold his gaze.

"That's why I've been more distant this week."

Oh. Hannah nodded and took another sip of water.

"Why not paddle the fear out of her?" Mr. Gast said, watching the two of them, chuckling when Hannah turned cherry red. He reminded Hannah of a cat, lazy but ready to pounce in a second if he wanted to.

"She's already obviously traumatized enough," Mr. Laufeyson snapped. "Giving her a paddling would only make it worse." He quirked an eyebrow slightly, eyes still on hers. "No?"

"I-it would. Make matters worse, I mean," Hannah replied, wishing her face would stop blushing. She didn't like Mr. Gast's self-satisfied expression she saw out of the corner of her eye.

Mr. Gast sighed loudly, jerking her gaze away from Mr. Laufeyson to Mr. Gast. "Ever been paddled before?"

"En," Mr. Laufeyson warned. Why did he care what Mr. Gast said to her or how he treated her? Mr. Laufeyson's reactions were more unnerving than Mr. Gast, Hannah thought.

"Quiet, Lolo. I was talking to Hannah." Mr. Gast's eyes seemed to shift from hazel to gold and back, simmering, flickering even though the light was steady. For a moment, Hannah wondered if he were even human, but the question was silly. If he weren't human, what else would he have been? Though he did seem... ageless. It was almost impossible there wasn't extraterrestrial life. Perhaps he was some sort of humanoid alien. Hannah rolled her lips. "So," Mr. Gast prodded, "Yes or no?"

"Yes," she whispered out of nervous honesty, feeling her cheeks go from cherry to beet red. Hannah broke eye contact and stared at her empty plate, praying to every deity she knew for one of Mr. Laufeyson's workers to come in and start setting food on the table.

A tan hand slid over the table and a knuckle forced her face up to look at Mr. Gast again. "Because you were naughty?" he purred, licking his lips. "Did your uncle spank you?"

"No!" she yelped, trying to jerk back but he held her fast, keeping her in place. "N-no. Um...." Hannah looked at Mr. Laufeyson who was quiet, eyes wide, jaw slack in shock. He leaned in a little bit, making Hannah feel cornered by the two of them. Her hands shook and she looked back at Mr. Gast's face, slowly counting the wrinkles over and underneath his eyes.

"Who spanked you, honey?" Mr. Gast pressed, cupping her cheek with a hot hand, thumb stroking over her skin, light enough so that it was unlikely he'd mess up her makeup. She hoped. At least she'd forced herself to take photos of her hair and face and full-size photos of herself in her dress for her uncle, who was still worried about her. What if the ensemble made him think Mr. Laufeyson was forcing her to be a high-end sex worker? What if Uncle Robert tried to get her out? This man, Mr. Gast, was the one watching Uncle Robert. Mr. Gast was dangerous, more forceful, and blunter than Mr. Laufeyson. At least, she suspected. Hannah doubted Mr. Gast would hesitate in hurting her uncle if her uncle tried anything. Her hands shook, still hidden under the table. 

Mr. Gast tapped her cheek and she jerked, only to be pulled back by his hand cupping her jaw. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Hannah shuddered, throat tight, breathing faster. 

"En. Let her go, please," Mr. Laufeyson said quietly, breaking the tension. 

"Not until she answers." Mr. Gast's eyes twinkled and his lips twitched up at the end. Hannah bit her lip, trembling in her chair. He thought it was _funny_. Nausea rose inside her.

Wrinkles. She focused on those and took deeper (albeit shaky) breaths with each one she found. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. Better. Hannah shuddered, feeling more of her nerves dissipate as the numbers rose. 26, 27, 28... Her breaths grew even and longer, even though both men were watching her, waiting. At least they were patient, probably knowing she was trying to calm herself down enough to answer instead of further trying to break it out of her. She wished Mr. Gast would take his hand away from her, but knew she'd have to answer his question to have that happen.

"D-Debora," she said. "Debora Mason."

Mr. Gast let go of her after a last caress and grinned. "Who was she?"

"W-we dated during my undergrad years." Hannah looked briefly at Mr. Laufeyson who had relaxed back into his chair though his eyes were intense and still on her face as he listened.

"Did you, uh, like it?" He made a tsk sound when Hannah looked back at her lap. "Eyes on me."

Reluctantly, she looked back at him. "Yes," she whispered, feeling a bit of color seep back to her face.

Mr. Gast laughed and grinned at Mr. Laufeyson. "Lolo likes it too."

"That's enough," Mr. Laufeyson hissed, eyes narrowed. "Another word and I'll pour my wine all over your shirt."

The older man merely gave Mr. Laufeyson a bored look though there was an unpleasant glint in his eye. "Sure about that, kitten?" he purred, licking his bottom lip. "Think that's setting an, uh, good example for the girl?"

Hannah rested against the chair, glad their attention was on each other. Mr. Laufeyson alone was a lot to deal with. When combined with Mr. Gast's attention, it was unnerving, captivating, and... something she couldn't quite put a word to. Something that while petrified her, made her want a tiny bit more.

"...not the point. Now where's the damn food, I'm famished," Mr. Gast snapped, looking at the doors at the other end of the room. As if by magic, the doors opened and finally, a chef pushing a cart walked to their end of the table and set the dishes down, giving brief descriptions of each dish: various sorts of steamed vegetables, several sauces, rice, chicken, mashed potatoes, and grilled tofu, all in separate, ornate platters.

"Excellent," Mr. Gast praised and dismissed the chef before serving himself a bit of everything.

Mr. Laufeyson followed suit and once he was done, Hannah did as well, but could only eat so much before she was full; anxiety too often killed her appetite. But as dinner progressed and the two men discussed business, gossiped about the city's elite, Hannah was able to relax and slowly ate more and was able to fill her stomach. The difference in their voices-- the old-nobility English smoothness of Mr. Laufeyson was a fascinating contrast to Mr. Gast's slick American accent that reminded Hannah of car salesmen more than the boxing equipment company she learned he ran. Loki's voice was like a sheet of perfect glass whereas Mr. Gast sounded like fudge sauce over ice cream.

Mr. Gast's foot slid over to hers underneath the table and started to rub against hers. Hannah shot up in her chair, barely covering a shocked gasp behind a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She grabbed the jug of water the chef had also brought and poured herself a fresh glass.

"Something wrong, sweetie?" Mr. Gast asked with a lascivious smile.

Hannah flushed. "Nothing, Mr. Gast," she said and took a few sips from her water, feet tucked further away under her chair.

"Oh, I do like how that sounds. 'Mr. Gast.' You should call me that, Lolo. It, uh, has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

Mr. Laufeyson snorted and muttered something too quick for Hannah to catch, but judging from the frown on Mr. Gast's face, Mr. Gast caught it clearly. He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll deal with that later," was all Mr. Gast said, though.

"That's the trouble with him," Mr. Gast said to Hannah, "everyone sees him as this princeling. But they never hear the filth that comes out of his disrespectful little mouth."

Hannah said nothing and pushed the last it of mashed potatoes around on her plate but held Mr. Gast's gaze.

"But once I slap him around enough, he remembers his manners." Mr. Gast chuckled. "Bet you won't need that, huh."

"That-- no, Mr. Gast," she said softly. He wanted a rise out of her, she realized. However, she wasn't going to take the bait if she could help it.

"Good girl," Mr. Gast said in approval before looking at Mr. Laufeyson. "She won't be too boring for you, will she?"

Mr. Laufeyson looked at Hannah, eyes cooly assessing her, roving over her face and what he could see of her body. "I think not," he said softly. "She is quite entertaining when she's frightened."

Her stomach flipped and she pressed her mouth shut, teeth clenching as fresh nausea rose. At some point in the dinner, it was hard for her to find exactly where right now, she'd begun to see Mr. Laufeyson as a more human and sympathetic captor, someone she could turn to, her mind conveniently forgetting his plans to sleep with her a month later. Three weeks, she realized with a jolt. No. She couldn't do it. Hannah reached for her glass and drank until it was empty, pouring herself another when she was finished.

"See?" Mr. Laufeyson said, eyes matching the horrid expression in Mr. Gast's as they looked at her like she was a piece of meat.

She looked across the table over at the door. Perhaps if she caused a diversion, she could run fast enough to her room or hide in a closet for a bit to calm down.

"Hmm," Mr. Gast said then took a long drink from his wine. "When were you thinking of, uh, breaking her in, again?"

"In a month or so."

Hannah looked back at Mr. Laufeyson and gulped. His lips curled, eyes darkening with something she didn't want to think about.

"A hundred bucks says you can't wait that long."

"Whatever, old man. I could wait two if I wanted." Mr. Laufeyson chuckled. "But I don't."

"Mmhm." Mr. Gast stood up, chair scratching across the floor. "It was nice, Lolo. I'll see you in your bedroom." He gave Mr. Laufeyson a look so filled with lust, Hannah thought he'd pounce Mr. Laufeyson then and there. Thankfully, he didn't, merely giving Hannah a wave, and strode out of the dining room.

Mr. Laufeyson sighed and finished his wine before he stood up and squatted beside Hannah, cupping her face in both of his cool hands. "What do you think of En?" he murmured, his face far too close for Hannah's liking.

"He... has a big personality," she replied, her nails digging into the armrest of her chair. Couldn't they leave her alone? She was boring, frightened, normal, average, dull, cowardly--

He chuckled, forcing her attention back on him. "Indeed." The tips of his fingers brushed against the side of her face where her hairline began and she flinched. "I met him in a shop. We both wanted a cashmere scarf and it was the last one the shop had."

"Oh."

"I promised him a kiss of he let me have it and he agreed."

Hannah swallowed, shifting a little in her chair, nails pressing harder into the thick, ungiving wood.

"All of my favorite lovers have been unconventional, Miss Ackerman," he murmured, leaning in closer until his face was an inch away. "So I have high hopes for you and your potential."

"Oh," she whispered, trying and failing not to get lost in his eyes. Fathomless. That's what they were. An abyss of green, like what she imagined the Waters of Lethe were like in the Underworld.

"You would do well to not only meet but surpass my hopes for you," he purred, gave her a slow smile, then kissed her, his lips hot, contrasting with the chill of his hands.

She went rigid and shut down, closing her eyes, feeling his lips open, suck softly on her bottom lip, then pull away completely, his hands dropping from her face. She heard his clothes rustle then the sharp clack of his shoes on the hardwood floor grow fainter and fainter, the door open and close and finally, she was alone. Hannah stood up and opened her eyes, rolling her shoulders back, and slowly made her way to the doors, walking back to her room with the silent employee. The employee, a muscled man in a tight black turtleneck and black slacks opened the door for her, closed it after her, and locked it.

Her lips tingled, a fact she threw far, far away from her consciousness and busied herself in cleaning her bed, putting all of the clothes back in her closet, then grabbed her pajamas, walked into the bathroom, let her hair out, cleaned her face off, changed, cleaned everything up, put the dress, accessories, and shoes away, climbed into bed, and fell asleep, mind blissfully void of any thought or emotion.


	6. Outside Over There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En is still there for breakfast. Hannah has a panic attack. En leaves after breakfast. There's a lot of talking in this chapter with not that much action. It's a lot of groundwork for later chapters, I think. I just really like dialog, guys. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Major panic attack, implied plans of sexual assault, non-con kissing, bad handling of panic attacks. Don't do what Loki and En do. That should be a given, haha.
> 
> Will Loki tell Hannah to (finally) call him "Loki" instead of Mr. Laufeyson???? *wiggly eyebrows* I don't even know.
> 
> Chapter 5 has a few spelling/ punctuation errors. Brownie points for those who find them (you're better than Grammarly if you do).
> 
> I've decided they're also dealing with COVID-19. So there is mention of that.
> 
> Also, these are BIG thick, old comfy leather chairs at the dining room, guys. I keep forgetting chairs and to describe them fully. So. Yeah. They're big-ass chairs.

Mr. Gast was still there the next morning, sitting at the table in an expensive-looking shiny red silk pajama set next to Mr. Laufeyson, who, to Hannah’s surprise, was in a matching set of pajamas though his were a deep green.

“Good morning, Miss Ackerman,” Mr. Laufeyson said with a relaxed smile. He stood up and walked over to her with a slight limp that made Hannah blush. She knew that limp all too well. He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of her palm then let it go, chuckling when she tucked both of her hands behind her back as she followed him to their seats, caught off guard when he pulled her chair out for her and back in as she sat down.

"Good morning," she replied, giving both of the men a nod in greeting.

"We didn't wake you up, did we? Lolo can be a bit of a screamer," Mr. Gast said with a smirk.

Hannah blushed and poured herself some orange juice and a cup of water, grateful the food and drinks were already present. "No, Mr. Gast." She'd luckily slept through whatever the men's escapades were last night.

"Good," Mr. Gast said though he looked disappointed.

He buttered some toast then spread a bit of jam over it and bit into it with a moan that made Hannah's blush a deeper shade of red.

"I apologize for both of our behavior last night," Mr. Laufeyson said after shooting Mr. Gast an irritated look. "My lover tends to bring out the worst in me and vice versa." His eyes flashed and he smiled a self-satisfied grin. Hannah doubted he was genuinely sorry for how he behaved. It didn't matter. Breakfast would be over quickly and then she'd be left on her own. She hoped.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Laufeyson." Hannah reached for a croissant from the breadbasket filled with assorted rolls and pastries in the middle of the table then drizzled honey butter inside it and ate, ignoring the looks the men gave her and each other, tucking her feet well out of reach from Mr. Gast in case he tried to play footsie again. She'd woken up early and had been reading one of the physics books she'd borrowed several days ago. The author had been making several interesting points about neutrinos and those points were more than enough to absorb her through breakfast until Mr. Laufeyson tapped her shoulder, making her jump and drop her half-eaten croissant on her plate.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, amused.

"No. I'm sorry, Mr. Laufeyson."

Mr. Gast laughed. "She really just does that. One of the most polite kids I've ever met." He grinned and grabbed a poppyseed bagel.

"Yes. She's much more polite than you, En, and you're triple her age," Mr. Laufeyson retorted.

"Watch it," Mr. Gast warned, dropped the bagel on his plate, leaned over, and cuffed the back of Mr. Laufeyson's head. Hard. The smack even echoed off the walls for a few seconds.

"What the fuck was that for?" Mr. Laufeyson hissed, glaring at Mr. Gast, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't be a brat in front of Hannah and watch your mouth, boy," Mr. Gast replied without blinking and went on preparing his bagel.

Mr. Laufeyson glared at Mr. Gast for another few seconds then turned back to Hannah. "Forgive him. He's just a bully." He paused and sipped his orange juice.

Hannah stared at them, at the fluidity of Mr. Gast's attack, at the way Mr. Laufeyson brushed it off moments later. She nodded and nibbled her croissant, holding it with both hands over her plate. Their relationship wasn't any of her business and she was too wary of both of them to get involved. Mr. Laufeyson, she suspected, could easily get out of the relationship if he wanted to, but for some inconceivable reason, evidently chose to stay, despite the casual display of brutality displayed by Mr. Gast. She shook her head. It wasn't. Her. Business. She stared at her croissant until Mr. Laufeyson spoke again.

"Moving on," Mr. Laufeyson continued, setting his glass down. “I was just telling En how other hostages in the past were far more rambunctious than you are. I cannot count how many previous hostages thought it would be amusing to break my Ming vases or rip through a Matisse.”

Just how many hostages had he had? For what reasons? What happened to them? Did any of them survive? Hannah shuddered and shoved those unsettling thoughts aside, focusing instead on the implicit generalization Mr. Laufeyson was making, that she was better than his other prisoners because she didn't cause a ruckus. “Others may not have had my brand of anxiety,” she replied softly. Anxiety worked differently in different people. Some became reckless and impulsive. Others never broke a single rule. Some flipped back and forth between the two and still, others may have been so far in their own thoughts they weren’t aware of the rules at all.

Hannah’s brand just happened to be an easy type of anxiety for everyone who had to deal with her—where learning every possible rule, every possible meaning of the rules, and following them as perfectly as she could kept her safe and out of any possible danger. She never got in trouble, never forgot a homework assignment, volunteered for responsibilities or to do the chores no one wanted at home or school or at work because if she did, then no one would be cross with her.

Mr. Gast leaned in and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She nodded but kept her eyes on Mr. Laufeyson. “Different people with anxiety cope differently. Some might lash out. Others keep it balled up and overcompensate with apologies or exercise too much. When you factor in people with additional or different mental illnesses, the variables and different types of reactions increase.” She sipped her tea, keeping his stare. “People respond differently to trauma, Mr. Laufeyson. I am merely the most convenient piece of leverage you’ve had. That is all.”

“Most convenient in some ways, perhaps. But most difficult in others.” Mr. Laufeyson's eyes flashed and his lips curled into a lascivious smirk. “Do not fret. We will work on that.”

Hannah tensed, bile rising in her throat. She drank a large gulp of water to keep it down and looked at her plate. “I’d rather not.”

He chuckled. “Unfortunately, that’s not for you to decide, is it?”

“No,” she whispered.

“No,” he agreed warmly and leaned over the table to give her a loose, heady kiss, catching her completely off guard. She jerked back with a cry, pushing his face away, accidentally elbowing not only her own two glasses but Mr. Laufeyson's orange juice as well.

"Fuck!" Mr. Laufeyson cursed. He stood up, as did Mr. Gast, both of them a mix of surprise and anger.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. This was it. He'd forgo the promised grace period, hold her against the wall and assault her right there for Mr. Gast and anyone else to see. Hannah curled into a ball on her deep-seated chair, panic taking over as she held her knees to her chest, hiding her face between her knees, rocking back and forth, her breath coming in short pants.

"You gotta get her on something stronger for emergencies, Lolo. Look at her," she heard Mr. Gast mutter as if he were far away. "Or sedate her so she can calm down enough to take her punishment, which I'll give her if you can't stomach it. You, uh, definitely can't let things like that slide or she'll think it's ok to-to pull stunts like this to get out of things. She'll make you go soft."

"You're not touching her," Mr. Laufeyson snarled, his voice distant as well. "I'll take care of disciplining her later and getting 'emergency medication.' Now help me clean up the mess."

Hannah whimpered, trembling, caught in her own terror-filled mind their voices growing farther away as the panic attack took over for eons, rocking back and forth.

Two warm hands pried her hands away from her legs, holding them down at her sides while another colder pair, pushed her knees down. She was still shaking but didn't fight them, her eyes tightly shut.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, calm down, honey. You're fine, ok? Just breathe with me." The hands let go of her legs and a moment later, a cold glass pressed against her lips. "Lolo has some water for you. Can you drink some?"

Hannah opened her eyes a few moments later, parted her lips, and let Mr. Laufeyson slowly pour the water into her mouth, pausing to let her swallow every few seconds until the glass was empty. She looked at Mr. Gast and felt his hands around her wrists like fat manacles. it was all too much. She tried to kick at him, to jerk her hands out of Mr. Gast's grip, but Mr. Laufeyson instantly held her legs down, squeezing her knees, pressing them into the chair.

"Breathe," Mr. Laufeyson ordered and counted each one with her. At first, it was just counting the number of breaths, then it was how many links were in Mr. Gast's gold chain necklace, then it was the number of rolls in the breadbasket, then the number of rings Mr. Gast had on his fingers, then the number of flowers printed on the pants Hannah was wearing and slowly, Hannah stopped shaking. Mr. Gast let go fo her wrists, helped her sip another glass of water, and moved back to his seat. Her heart, beating like an angry monkey against the bars of its cage in a zoo, returned to normal, her breaths grew deeper and consistent, and the panic drew back to the corners of her consciousness, leaving her on edge, but manageable now.

Mr. Laufeyson let go of her knees and sat back down in his chair, brow creased. He looked at Mr. Gast. "That's why she's still a handful. That's why she won't ever be dull or boring."

"Interesting," Mr. Gast said without looking away from Hannah. "So, uh, Lolo ever tell you he used to get panic attacks as a kid?"

Her eyes widened and she looked at Mr. Laufeyson, an occasional shiver going down her back, remnants of her panic attack still struggling to get out of her system. She looked at the table, surprised to find it completely cleaned off, complete with new plates, utensils, glasses, and napkins. Her panic attack had kept her completely out of what was going on around her.

"Yes," Mr. Laufeyson said, "I still have a few pills of Xanax on me wherever I go, just in case I need them."

"The trick is to, uh, calm down before he gets to that point."

Mr. Laufeyson nodded.

The trick was to not surprise her with a kiss she didn't want and then be angry when she pushed back. Hannah sighed and sipped her water. Before she'd been abducted, she'd been managing fine. She was using her coping mechanisms, able to ride the panic out when it got high and recover on her own. Now that she was here, especially with Mr. Gast, she felt constantly threatened, constantly on edge more than usual even, making her panic attacks more frequent than they'd been in years. Even in her room, there were constant reminders of her captivity, of not being to be independent. Her entire life was gone and had been replaced with-with this. She shuddered and swallowed down a sob, stopping herself from bringing her knees back to her chest. She felt stifled, trapped, and had no access to many of her main coping mechanisms like work or long walks outside. Work had been her solace and now it was ripped from her. She gulped down more water and choked a bit, glad when the two men let her cough it out.

"Better?" Mr. Laufeyson asked when she'd quieted.

Hannah nodded even though she wasn't.

Suddenly, Led Zepplin's "Immigrant Song" let loose--a song Uncle Robert would play on repeat while he showered in the apartment he and Hannah shared--from Mr. Gast's shirt pocket, the phone lighting up through the fabric, causing both Mr. Laufeyson and Hannah to jump in their seats, which made Mr. Gast laugh and pull out his cellphone. He put it to his ear, still grinning at Mr. Laufeyson without a hint of regret.

Mr. Laufeyson and Hannah sat in silence as they listened to a one-sided conversation. Hannah picked up a new croissant, put butter and apricot jam inside, and ate it slowly, focusing on the texture, taste, smell, and sound of each bite, zoning out as her thoughts moved onto the physical properties of butter, imagining what it'd look like under a microscope.

The screech of a chair being pushed back startled Hannah. She looked up, relieved when both of the men were standing.

"Gotta run. But I'll, uh, be back soon. Don't forget to film her punishment and send it to me," he told Mr. Laufeyson and turned to wave at Hannah. "Be good, sweetie."

"Good day, Mr. Gast," she replied, watching him walk out of the dining room, relief flooding her when the doors shut behind him. Hannah collapsed back against her chair and sighed, eyes closing as she did so.

"Yes, he does have that effect on people," Mr. Laufeyson agreed, "exhausting at times." 

She opened her eyes and watched him finish his glass of water. "I'm--I'm sorry. About making a mess." However, he shouldn't have kissed her at all, especially in front of Mr. Gast.

Mr. Laufeyson rolled his lips then released them with a small pop. Hannah pretended her heart didn't skip a beat when he did that. "I apologize for kissing you," Mr. Laufeyson said, his face serious.

"What?" Hannah whispered, eyes widening in shock, consciously keeping her mouth shut so it didn't gape open.

"I apologize for each time I've kissed or touched you without your consent." He sighed. "It's only half of an apology, a... perfunctory apology because I'm going to keep doing it." His eyes glinted and he looked over her in her yellow blouse and jeans with flower patterns, now stained with orange juice. "You are mine."

Hannah shuddered and he smirked but at least he didn't touch her.

"But I've realized I'm going about this the wrong way. Instead of allowing you to isolate, I am going to mandate we spend more time together when I am not working on private matters." He leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands. "You may read or find other activities to do in my presence as I work. And after I am done, we can find a film to watch, a game to play, or any other sort of activity you wish to do within reason."

In other words, forced fun, babysitting, even more scrutiny. Ironically, she likely would be given more freedom as well with her choice of activities. The lack of camera supervision would be a nice break, too. "That is a good idea, Mr. Laufeyson."

His lips twitched as if he heard the uncertainty and hesitation in her voice. "It is. This will give you more time to get to know me and grow more comfortable around me."

Hannah bit her lip to hide a grimace. She'd be around him for over twelve hours a day. It was simply another form of captivity and manipulation which would make her feel even more aware of the cage she was kept in with her jailer watching her every move. "...What about sleeping arrangements? Or showering?" she asked timidly.

"You will sleep in your own bed, of course, and have time to yourself every morning and night. Without me. Our day begins at breakfast and ends at nine at night." 

How had he already thought of everything? When had he decided this? During the days he ignored her? Or just now? Hannah sipped her water and nodded again. Breakfast was around 10. Eleven hours. Eleven hours stuck with him everyday. She'd figure something out. Napping more would help, she thought. Perhaps he had a comfortable armchair in his office, or he could move his work to his room and let her sleep on his bed-- no. That wouldn't work. He might get ideas then. Maybe he'd let her nap in her room and come get her later. That was also unlikely; her naps were unpredictable in length and he might find it a nuisance to fetch her from her room after she woke up. She felt like a child, reduced to being babysat and taking naps or playing or reading. At least he didn't care what she read.

"There are a few questions in you. I can feel them," he said and chuckled. "What are you thinking about?"

"What if I want to nap and you're on a phone call? What if I need to use a restroom? What if I need something from my room?"

Mr. Laufeyson laughed. "If you need a nap, there is a very comfortable couch in my room and I can be quiet with my calls. I will have one of my employees stationed outside my office and they will escort you to the nearest bathroom and back to my office. If you need something from your room or elsewhere from the mansion, simply tell me or my employee outside my office door. Or you can write a note and show it to me or slip it under the door if you are too nervous to verbalize it."

Ok. That wasn't too bad. She could do that. And, who knew what Mr. Laufeyson had in his office. Hannah nodded and took a deep breath, fiddling with her napkin in her lap. "How often do you work at home? What if you need to go out?" It was unthinkable he'd let her go out with him, not so soon after her abduction.

"I work at home as often as I can now." His lips twitched. "Our city has gone on lockdown since the pandemic hit badly this week and the number of cases has risen exponentially."

Hannah grimaced. There'd been several meetings of figuring out how to conduct research and keep working from home or reduce the amount of staff to half and switch off days with social distancing measures in place or set up remote laboratories. If only Hannah could set up a remote lab inside Mr. Laufeyson's mansion. He certainly had space for it in addition to being able to finance everything and get her all the resources she needed. Of course, there would likely be a price for that if he ever let her have her own lab, but she wasn't going to think about that right now.

"I do not want any of my employees catching or being exposed to or exposing others to the virus and have moved my operations online, to remote locations, or shut them down completely." He pursed his lips and took a long drink from his glass of water then went on. "And before you judge me for it like half the reporters are, all of my employees are getting paid and have been given some sort of work to do, even the cleaning crew. None are getting fired nor are having reductions in their pay." 

What? How much flack had he gotten? A lot if he was getting cross with her just thinking about her judging him for it. Interesting.

"How magnanimous, Mr. Laufeyson," she said, trying to sound validating and confused. It must have worked, apparently, because the tension in his shoulders left and he rolled them back, giving her a brief smile. It was so fast she nearly missed it, but oh, what a lovely smile he had when it was genuine.

"The point is, I am here most of the time. If I leave, you will be taken back to your room until I return."

Hannah nodded.

"Any other questions?"

"Do you... er, what room in the mansion do you usually work in?"

"My office or my bedroom. But with you, it will be my office only." He gave her an evaluative look then sat up straight, hands falling to his lap in the chair. "If you feel the need to stretch your legs, an employee will walk the halls with you or let you grab clothes to work out in and take you to my gym. Any other questions?"

"Yes," Hannah said, blushing a bit. She always had questions. Though typically she'd email them to her employer if she was in a meeting or ask them privately. Painting! Her imagination flashed to an image of setting up an easel, a canvas tarp underneath to avoid staining the gorgeous hardwood floor that was probably in his office since it was everywhere else except the restrooms and some paints and having at it while he worked. If she couldn't work, the very least she should be allowed to do is paint. "Could I paint? Could I have a canvas and easel set up in your office with protective measures in place in case paint flicks or spills on things? What other activities will you let me do while you bab-- while we... spend time together?"

Mr. Laufeyson laughed. "Babysit? I see why you would see it like that." He waved a hand and addressed her other questions. "I'll allow you paints after protective measures are in place and you can go five days without a bad panic attack. As to other activities... Anything quiet. Reading, journaling, sketching, pacing, napping, crafts, small and easily cleaned up science experiments perhaps, browsing things on your phone, yoga, floor exercises, meditation, things like that. As long as you do not snoop or touch my possessions in my office, this will be extremely beneficial."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," she answered. She'd be able to do almost everything she'd done in her room. Being cooped up with Mr. Laufeyson might work after all. Though if he was consistently busy, she didn't understand how it would make them bond or get on better terms any faster. Perhaps it would make more sense to her after they'd done it a few days.

He chuckled. "Good. Now. As a show of good faith, I thought you might like a tour of the grounds for the rest of the day."

Her eyes widened and this time, her mouth dropped open like a cod fish. She snapped it shut quickly when she saw him smirking and blushed. "I--yes! Um. That... I would love that." Outside! She let out a happy sigh.

Mr. Laufeyson stood up, pleased. "Well then. Shall we?"

"Yes," she said and with that, walked out of the dining room, through the halls, and outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En is an asshole (for a lot of reasons) and thinks that stealing Thor's favorite song ("Immigrant Song" by Led Zepplin) and putting it on his own phone as a general ringtone for everyone who calls is funny because let's face it, it sort of is. Especially when he's around Thor and has Loki call him so that the song goes off in front of Blondie. *snickering*
> 
> Why are all of my notes so long??? Anyway. I just decided spur of the moment to include the pandemic. When Loki says he moved everything online/ remote, he's talking about his official tech company, not any of his mobster stuff. Or at least, not all of the mob stuff. Hannah obvs doesn't know he's legit the mob, but that's coming. He'll take all of his mob work outside/ have Hannah leave when he does mob stuff/ he'll leave to take care of mob stuff. I also have no idea how mob organizations work apart from what I've seen in movies and read in fanfiction (I doubt either is a reliable source).
> 
> Despite my trying not to describe Hannah's physical appearance, I do describe her as able-bodied. 
> 
> I am white, mostly able-bodied, upper-middle-class, and until recently, have not had a lot of experience confronting my privileges and biases. Those privileges and biases will likely be in my work. I apologize for that and I am doing my best to figure out my biases and get rid of them to be more inclusive and accepting of everyone. If you want to, please feel free to tell me if something I write makes you uncomfortable, is not ok, is problematic, etc...


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